Monthly Archives: January 2012

… is our word for the week. When we speak, act, relate out of exousia, we are doing so from the very essence of our being. We are acting out of the passion of authenticity.
The source is deeper and wider than ourselves however – it taps into the transcendent mystery of the universe.
Exousia is what makes Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech so great.
Exousia is what gives continuing muscle to Kevin Rudd‘s Sorry Day action.Exousia is what gives power to the mild-mannered mum who advocates for the resources her special needs child requires to thrive.

Exousia is a Greek word that is frequently found in the Gospels of the Christian tradition – often translated as “authority” (as in Mark 1:22 “They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” (NRSV)

I visited the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Canberra in 1982 – its presence was about ten years old then, and it was generating considerable angst in the orderly scene that is public service Canberra. My errand was to return an address/appointment book I had picked up in the street. It belonged to one of the key embassy activists. I considered, given the sensitive nature of the contents, that I would deliver it to its owner myself rather than turn it in to “the authorities.” The public was not on side at this time; the tent was an embarrassment and should go. Thirty years later, the Aboriginal Tent Embassy pitched on the lawns of Old Parliament House has hit international headlines again.

It’s not my desire to add commentary to this particular event, apart to point out that the incident illustrates the distance we still have to travel before this country can speak of being unified.

Yet there remains enough positive energy from all parties to give it a go. Current anger and polarisation gives the appearance of sudden crisis. In reality, the crisis has existed for some time. Genuine and intelligent efforts continue to strive against all sorts of odds to address it. These efforts will not be diverted by the street theatre of yesterday, no matter who instigated it. The party of 22 diverse community leaders who have submitted the unanimous parliamentary report on changes to the Australian Constitution to acknowledge indigenous concerns remains promising. Today’s analysis: Long road to the Indigenous referendum – Eureka Street is both realistic and hopeful.

Christians have a role to play in what is essentially a secular nation – but it’s one based on service rather than some notion of a divine right to rule. As one of my lecturer’s used to say “read,mark, learn and inwardly digest!”

A new story line seems to have caught Hollywood’s imagination … helpless, bereft dads reconnecting with their kids! Get a big box office attraction like Matt Damon or George Clooney, throw him in the deep end and see how he swims. It seems we enjoy bumbling dads, emotionally bereft of their partners, launching a way-out project that simultaneously wins over their hostile, alienated and scornful offspring. We are meant to laugh, cry, cheer and sigh as the cinematic journey leads us to the satisfactory conclusion of a content, wise and happy family unit “being together” as the end credits roll.

The left-field nature of the foils are similar. Freshly widowed Matt Damon’s character bought a zoo. George Clooney’s persona reluctantly unhooks his comatose wife’s life support, then leads his daughters and one of their goofy beaux on an island hopping hunt for the guy who cuckolded him. The comedy, the drama, the climaxes, the poignant moments – you can almost set your watch by them.

Our national day celebrations often generate discussion within our small congregation. Yesterday’s take on Jonah the Bogan was one attempt to address the tensions between celebrating national pride and accountability to something wider, bigger and deeper. One of our Elders, Steve Mellor, has granted permission to reprint his article from this week’s church newsletter:

On 26th January Australians will gather in capital cities and other regional centres around the country to celebrate Australia Day. The day will be marked with official ceremonies, parties and elaborate fireworks displays. The day will be a special occasion for many new Australians who will truly call Australia home by accepting the responsibilities that come with Australian Citizenship. So let’s reflect on what this day actually means.

To call January 26th Australia Day is somewhat of a misnomer. Ray Durbridge reminded us a few weeks ago that our real national day passes by largely unnoticed. 1st January 1901 is really when Australia came into being. Whilst many Australians party and celebrate the establishment of a British penal colony on the shores of Sydney Harbour on 26th January 1788, a substantial number of Australians remember the day with some sadness and find it offensive that such celebrations take place. It was on that day that the great southern land was taken away from a people who had lived here continuously for around 100,000 years. For them, the 26th January 1788 marks the day of invasion.

There is a real sense in which we, as Australians, should be proud of our heritage and of the nation we have become – a nation which acknowledges the rights and privileges of all its citizens and one which, I feel , leads the world in expressing and respecting the rights and dignity of all people. We are a nation which honours and respects both the importance of the individual and the value of community, though I have been somewhat dismayed at recent debate concerning the coming of persecuted people to our shores, particularly those of non-Christian background. Many risk their lives to come here and that says a great deal about who we are as a nation. Our reputation is largely built on the perceived good life available to most. Sadly though, the original indigenous inhabitants of this land have not enjoyed the same fruits of prosperity.

Historically, whilst the states came together in a spirit of goodwill and cooperation to form the nation of Australia, prior to Federation systematic occupation of an already occupied land saw much loss of indigenous life, culture and heritage, as well as the expanding colonies’ environmental impact. Events subsequent to Federation saw attempts to completely eradicate the ‘blacks’ through removal of children from their parents and the further taking of previously occupied land. The original inhabitants were considered to be non-people, only being given the rights of citizenship in 1967. 44 years later indigenous people still struggle for recognition, respect and opportunity to truly enjoy life as part of ‘one Australia’. So, for me, this is not a cause for celebration, but rather it should be the catalyst for further listening and reflection. Pride in the steps we have taken in recent times, particularly in the area of reconciliation, should be tempered with a liberal dose of humility, acknowledging the mistakes that have been made and recognising the difficulty of the road ahead but also recognising that the diverse indigenous culture is as rich a part of the common wealth of this nation as any resource. If we choose to listen, there is much we can learn.

Respect for the indigenous people of this country has led me to not celebrate Australia Day and I would be happy to see it removed from the nation’s calendar. However, I am proud to be a member of a church having an on-going commitment to reconciliation and am encouraged by our desire to show respect for the First Australians through the implementation of a Reconciliation Action Plan. Approaching another Australia Day, let’s reflect on the great cost of our nationhood to our indigenous brothers and sisters. While honouring and celebrating our Australianness, let’s also acknowledge and reflect on the history that accompanies that and how we might participate in positive acts of reconciliation.

He drove a lime green V8 ute* with a bright chrome roo bar, chrome twin exhausts, chrome wheel rims and a CB radio with a tall antenna from which, on important national days, he could fly his country’s flag. The esky* toting vehicle was festooned with bumper stickers – “Love it or leave it”, and “[Beep] off, we’re full.”

Jonah was a great supporter of Ezra’s renationalisation program. When the Emperor of Persia introduced his policy that cultivated cultural diversity by allowing annexed nations to return to their homelands, the exiled people of Israel returned to Jerusalem with great rejoicing.

Here was their chance to rebuild and become a people with a national identity again. Ezra was a dedicated public servant charged with the responsibility of making it happen. He reintroduced people to the Torah, establishing strong adherence to the Hebrew tradition. He legislated against mixed marriages, retrospectively and he enforced the rule with meticulous ardour. The Hebrew line had to be kept pure.

Hebrew nationalism, a corrective to several generations of identity absorption, was on the rise.

“Hebrew, Hebrew, Hebrew, oi, oi, oi!” was the new cry.

And Jonah was there in the stands, initiating the Mexican wave with patriotic fervour.

The sages of Israel looked at all this and were worried. In the fervour to re-establish Hebrew tradition, the actual core of their identity was being lost – YHWH’s promise to Abraham that their ultimate purpose was to be a blessing to all nations.

So the wise ones gave to Ezra, and to the new people of Israel, and to us all, a story where Jonah becomes the reluctant instrument of blessing to their greatest historic nemesis – Nineveh.

Jonah the bogan, fighting and struggling against the Epiphany of YHWH, finding himself in tremendous conflict as his exclusive outlook is turned upside down, finds himself transformed into the Billy Graham of the Ancient Mediterranean world.

As our much feted and controversial national day approaches, it is good to read thoughtful, reflective pieces on our collective and individual struggles with national identity.As usual, Australia’s more recent arrivals have much to teach us. Identity is discovered through involvement.:

I have often wondered how effective email campaigns and petitions for worthy causes are. As a card carrying member of several, it is not unusual for me to receive half a dozen pleas on any particular day urging support for a pressing purpose.

The funny thing with both of these is my feeling of déja vu – we’ve been down this road before, yet here we are again. Some have observed that popular ground swells in relation to certain government initiatives are noted by legislators to the extent that they will act with some sort of appeasement. When the furore has died down, they will quietly enact the legislation anyway.

It is feared that this may be occurring currently with the SOPA and PIPA legislation before the US Congress and Senate, the effect of which would seriously curtail the flow of information on the internet. The growing crescendo of opposing voices from constituents is causing some backpedalling and “shelving” of the legislation. It is already evident that the papers will remain on the shelf only until next month, when it is rescheduled for debate. By then, no doubt the legislators and their sponsors hope, the furore will have died down and everyone will have returned to the acidie of unawareness.

So there is no doubt that popular email campaigns for social and political change are effective – they have provoked counter strategies to neutralise the people power they represent.
Such campaigns rely however, not just on the easy stroke of a key to support a cause, but continuing alert to what happens beyond the initial drive and a monitoring of how promises in response to such campaigns are expedited.

When my friend and colleague Denis returned from interviewing survivors of the Christchurch earthquake one year on, he noted that a common question was “Where is God in all this?” Denis reflected that perhaps the more pertinent question is “Where am I in all this?”

It neatly swings us to a fresh line of questing, particularly in this season of Epiphany that, according to Christian tradition, almost blinds us to the glory of the revealed presence of God. Such presence draws the magi to Bethlehem, the crowds to the Jordan, and Andrew,Peter, Philip,and Nathanael to the side of Jesus.

Such a question hits us when we are confronted with some transcendent moment of awareness, an instant of the numinous, where the universe seems to call our name towards something bigger and greater than our being. For a while, our routine distractions fade into the background as we ponder the ramifications of this wider awareness. Such moments alter career paths, uproot places of living and set new pathways in life.

They manifest differently according to the layers of life we have experienced. Someone neatly divided the average human course into three stages – roughly exploration and discovery (0-30 years), development and consolidation (30-60 years), and reflection and entropy/ascendancy (60+ years)

It occurred to me that such arbitrary categorisation (if such a thing helps) is illustrated by the various ways that the four disciples in today’s text in John 1 respond to their “call”.

Andrew and Simon (Peter) have been with John the Baptist – they witness Jesus’ baptism and John’s feting of him. Their quest is to find out as much as they can and they go after him. He asks them what they are looking for and they wonder obliquiely where he is staying. He invites them to come and see. Seems a bit like the exploration and discovery stage.

Philip is simply called. “Follow me,” Jesus says. And Philip’s mode of following is to catch on quickly to what it’s all about and set out to expand the territory of Jesus’ influence. Philip is the Great Introducer – just about every time we encounter him from this point he is introducing potential disciples. This is a work of development and consolidation.

I imagine Nathanael in a hammock under the fig tree – it is perhaps a metaphor of contemplation. He’s seen a lot of life – been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Philip invites him to meet someone worth talking to. Nathaniel’s response sounds curmudgeonly, skeptical and world weary, but neverthless he goes. He discovers that he is known and the moment of mutual recognition is enought to move him from entropy to ascendancy.

Reflecting on Nathanael, and the possibility that he is responding to this “call” in the latter stages of life, reminded me of this TED talk by Jane Fonda.

So, “Where am I in all this?” may well be the best question of the year.

Some have criticised this film because of an “undue focus” of the Thatcher years through her latter life dementia. I thought it aptly portrayed how ardent idealism (whether it be on the conservative or revolutionary side of politics) can alienate ourselves not only from those closest to us, but ultimately from ourselves. It cast a highly personal light on the political touchpoints of the Thatcher rule – the mine closures, general strikes, IRA bombings, the Falkland Islands, the Reagan connection and the end of the Cold War. Regardless of whether Margaret Thatcher engaged or enraged you, the screenplay and brilliant characterisation by Meryl Streep made it difficult not to empathise with elderly private citizen Dame Margaret Thatcher coming to terms with her personal losses, while at the same time pondering the legacy of her political reign. Born into a grocer’s family, she wanted to make a difference, to show that anyone can make the changes they see as important through hard work and no compromise. Absolute principles ruled the day even at the cost of relationship. There are poignant moments in the screenplay where this is made abundantly clear, but why would I spoil the movie if you are yet to see it?